


Sunday

by Leviarty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Breakfast, M/M, Massage, Snark, Steve Rogers Cooks, but also not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6810007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/Leviarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is suffering; Steve helps out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked for **Sam is in pain Steve offers to give him a massage**.

Sam woke with a crick in his neck, but it was nothing compared to how the rest of his body felt.

He got himself out of the bed, despite protest from every muscle group. “I’m getting too old for this,” he said, dragging his feet down the hallway.

“I’ve got 70 years on you,” Steve’s voice replied from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Only then did Sam recognize the smells assaulting his nose. Steve was cooking. Steve was trying to cook.

“Jesus, Steve, what are you doing?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer. “Because I gotta tell you, I am _not_ in the mood to be putting out fires.”

“I’m making breakfast, not starting fires,” Steve said. “It’s fine.”

Sam sat down at the table, perching his head on his hand. “Need I remind you of how that went last time?” he asked. Everything had burned.

“I can handle eggs,” Steve said. “No pancakes this time, I promise. I got toaster waffles.” He grinned like this was a huge accomplishment for him. Or maybe he was just amazed that waffles could be made in a toaster.

“That’s a relief.”

“Now, what were you saying? Too old for what?”

“Rescuing supersoldiers from free falls. Getting shot at. Babysitting your ass. Take your pick.”

Steve looked up from the pan of eggs. “You okay?” he asked, frowning.

Sam waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I just lack your super human recovery time.”

Steve moved eggs from the pan to a pair of plates, then grabbed the waffles from the toaster.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sam asked when Steve set the plate down in front of him, along with a huge glass of orange juice.

“Just thanks for all the babysitting,” Steve said, smirking a little. He frowned at Sam’s stiff movements. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Sam said.

 

“Should I take your cleared plate as a sign that I did okay?” Steve asked, moving their empty dishes to the sink.

“The lack of fire rescue was a sign that you did okay,” Sam said. He rolled his head around, searching for some comfort. “But yes, breakfast was acceptable. Thank you.” He rested his face in his hand, trying, futilely, to stave off the headache that was crawling up from his neck.

Steve stepped around the table and put his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Here, let me,” he said, carefully massaging the tense muscles in his neck. “You know you don’t have to follow me into every fight.”

Sam half-laughed, and rolled back his shoulders, giving Steve better access to all the parts that hurt most. “And who’s gonna keep your dumbass out of trouble if I don’t?”

Steve didn’t have an answer for that, so kept quiet as he dug his thumbs into Sam’s shoulders. Sam took in a sharp breath and Steve froze. “No, keep going,” Sam said, though his words were in conflict with the pained expression he wore as Steve continued to work through his muscles. He moved down to the spot between his shoulder blades and massaged softly after first, but increased pressure when he was met with little resistance. He sometimes forgot the strength that Sam held here. His wings seemed such a natural extension, but they were still an external attachment that he had to carry and control, and Steve knew well they weren’t light.

Steve leaned over to kiss the side of Sam’s neck. “You’re pretty cool, you know. My favorite super hero.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then groaned as the phone rang.

Steve, much to Sam’s dismay, stopped  massaging and reaching for his cell. “You have not reached Steve Rogers,” he said in a somewhat robotic tone. “Please call again when it’s not his day off.” He hung up the phone and dropped it on the counter.

“I hope that was Natasha,” Sam said. “Because the World Counsel would not be pleased with Captain America taking a day off.”

Steve grinned and carefully pulled Sam to his feet. “Best not waste this opportunity then,” he said.


End file.
